The Last Of Me
by TasteTheSunshineDarling
Summary: Set between the end of Mockingjay and the Epilogue.  mainly revolves around Peeta
1. Chapter 1

Peeta stared at the painting for some time; the Artist was both shocked and angry by his painting that he was frozen in his spot until a loud _coo_ from a bird outside made him jump. Rubbing his eye with the back of his hand he dropped the paint brush and plate of paint onto a small wooden table to the left of him. A familiar question ran through his brain, _would he ever be free? _Or would he always be haunted by the death of his family, by the ghosts of the games, by the nightmares. Taking the painting in his cold hands he gripped it at the top before bringing one hand down and tearing the painting in two.

A multitude of colours ran down his hands, between his fingers and dribbled to the floor, it would have been a sight for a bystander. Seeing the blonde baker with paint running over his hands and arms, with the early morning sun reflecting of the pinks and blue of the ripped painting. With one final grunt he threw the torn paper into almost dead fire and hurried from the room not bothering to cover his paints or wipe the wet spots from the floor. Not that he ever bothered to clean the walls and floors of that room, if so; he would have been there for hours scrubbing a mixture of paint splatters from the white surfaces.

He showered and changed quickly into his regular get up of dark pants and a light shirt that would allow his body to breath comfortably in the heat of the bakery. He ran a hand through his damp hair and headed from his house to his bakery. It was easy for him to lose his mind, his concentration inside the four white walls, yet at the same time he always had a feeling of fleeing at the end of the day, His family's ghost haunting him until he would lock the door and walk into the sunset back home.

Inside the bakery he watched the sun rise higher until District 12 came alive in a buzz of noise, hammering, shouts, children laughing. It would have been magical, if not for the fact that most people still lived in burned and ruined homes, that the hammering came from people rebuilding their lives that where destroyed the moment Katniss and him raised their handful of berries to their mouths. People came and went buying bread and rolls, some cakes, he continued to bake letting his mind focus on the task at hand. He didn't want to risk letting his mind wander to things that could trigger him off.

When he got bored he sat at the counter letting a finger run over a flour covered work bench, he wiped his finger on his apron and looked up an out through the shop windows where sun played against the glass. It shimmered and shook, rattling the window frame. As soon as Peeta thought of those words his brow creased, and he straightened his back. _Since when did the sun make a window shake?_ He was quick on his feet, and in seconds he was by the shop window his hands on the warm glass, his face almost pressed against it before it struck him. Like the static noise of a TV, it rang through his head until he was on his but hiding below the window, arms covering his face.

Katniss had woken up early that morning, like always, nightmares haunting her. After going into the woods she came back into District 12 just as the sun was about to rise, and she could tell it was going to be a hot day. Slinging her bag over her shoulder she rolled the other feeling the tension in her muscles. As if a routine she made her way to the Bakery, the smell of bread thick in the air. It made her stomach growl and she suddenly regretted not eating breakfast. As she swung the door open she found it strange to have the place quiet. She was used to seeing Peeta behind the counter baking something. "Peeta?" she called out adjusting the strap on her shoulder looking over the counter trying to spot the blonde baker. Turning she saw him by the window, a frown immediately made its way across her face and she dumped her bag on the counter walking over to him. "is everything ok?" Katniss asked concerned seeping into her voice.

Peeta jumped hearing a voice, lifting a hand up to wipe his forehead he gave a smile that he knew would convince her he was fine. "Just taking a break" he lied moving to stand up, his normal leg stiffening for a moment before he turned to her with a warm smile. "is there something you needed?" It saddened him to think she was only here to collect her bread, he wished things were different. That she was here simply because she wanted to talk, or have company. He noticed the way she was pulling back from people, and it made him sad. He wanted to help her, he did, but every time he tried he felt he was being pushed further back. Running a hand through his blonde hair he walked around the benches and to the oven where he kept his back to her yawning for a couple seconds. He could tell it was going to be a long day

Peeta kept quiet for some minutes, taking the bread from the oven letting the heat warm his hands before he turned to her looking up as he arranged the bread on the counter. "how are you" he finally asked, his blue eyes meeting hers, filled with concern and something else.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you everyone for the reviews. I know the chapters are short, I will try to lengthen them or even combine some to make it longer.**

"ok" Katniss stated not really telling the truth, but she had become accustomed to lying about how she was. It was getting to the point where she was trying convince herself more than anyone else. Her eyes darted around the bakery, the pale walls, the white counter tops, and the burning ovens against the back wall. So different from the one that his family had run, this one seemed more Peeta. Sitting down on a stool across from him her finger scrapped along the counter gathering flour. Something was placed in front of her, well not in front of her for her to take. But Peeta was arranging bread, fresh out of the oven heat radiating of them. All different grains and colour, at right at the end was one she was to familiar with it haunted her dreams.

"you know, I haven't seen this bread since" her words where cut short as she stared up at him, the boy with the bread, then she looked back at the bread that had saved her life so many years ago.

At her words Peeta looked down at the bread, besides plain bread it was the simplest to make. He stared at it for several seconds remembering the day he had given it to her. Now the memory hurt even more, not because of her but his parents. Clearing his throat he raised his eyes and gave a small smile, it wasn't a fake as some of the others he gave in the last weeks and months. It was a small true smile. "I remember" is all Peeta said before turning again to turn the ovens down keeping his hands busy. He hated that he couldn't think of anything to say, that things between them had to be awkward. "Tell me how you really are Katniss" he finally stated out loud turning to face her, a tea towel in his hands. "You can tell me anything" he added in a softer tone before moving from the bench he was leaning against to the one she was at. He lent his hands on it looking down at her.

Katniss frowned seeing him turn, was it so hard for them to have eye contact? Letting out a sigh she rubbed her jaw shrugging at his question not answering. Once again she found her eyes wandering around the bakery; she wondered how he managed it, baking, and doing what his family had done even before he was born. She couldn't even imagine going back to the burnt ruins that where her old home. "How can you stand being here, I mean baking and paining. How do survive?" she blurted out before the words registered in her mind.

A small lump forming in his throat, something tightened around his heart. What could he say? That late at night he would stand there in his house and paint his family? That every time he painted them he burned the pictures, because it was too much to handle? In some ways he was jealous of Katniss, the way she was strong, the fact her mother was still alive even if in another district. He stood there, looking at the floor in front of one of the ovens, minutes ticket past until he turned back to look at her. His face revealing nothing, yet there was a slight glimmer in his eyes from tears that wanted to come out.

"I don't" Peeta whispered his voice wavered until he sat down on one of the wooden stools feeling like his real leg would give out under him. For months he had pretended to be fine, that the nightmares, the flashbacks where nothing but a bad taste in his mouth. The war was from over, but he was still shaken. "This place, it's the only thing that makes me feel somewhat human" he spoke the word Human like he didn't believe it. The months spent under torture had made him believe him he wasn't. Peeta had spent weeks under care, being treated, under lock and key like he was some animal, he was no longer the 16 year old that wanted to paint, the one that would risk his life to save the one he loved. He would still do anything to protect Katniss, but something inside him had snapped, had broken. And if the torture wasn't enough, the new of his family's death had pushed him over the edge. He remembered how when he arrived back at District 12, the first night he didn't sleep. Instead he spent the night and a good part of the morning, painting. But instead of painting the games, Rue or even Katniss, it was his brothers, his mother, his father. He had not looked at the pictures since, out of fear of his own sanity.

Just then the door opened and a stocky woman with frizzy brown hair and scruffy clothes came wandering in. Peeta picked up the bread at the end, wrapped it up and handed it to Katniss with a small sad smile urging her out. Wanting to do anything but talk about himself and his nightmares. "How can I help you?" Peeta asked the woman giving his signature smile.


	3. Chapter 3

-Some days later-

As usual Katniss made her way to the bakery, it was mid afternoon and she had spent the day hunting, her mind tired. Just as she reached for the door someone came out holding multiple loaves of bread. He gave her a nod before walking out and down the street towards where ever they had come from. Peeta looked up before a smile broke out across his face.

"Can I show you something?" he asked, even before she could muster a hello. he wanted Katniss to see them, the paintings, still a small part of his brain told him not to, that he had sworn to himself he would never look at them. Of everything he had painted. Inside his house there was a room, at the back, stacks upon stacks of paintings and papers. he offered his hand giving a smile that only didn't really reach his eyes "I..."I want to show you how I cope" he didn't really wait for her to respond instead he took her hand and guided her out the back of the bakery steps where he almost dragged her towards his house. Once there he pushed the door open, marched up the steps, though slower this time, like he suddenly regretted what he was doing. Still he walked to the end of the hall. The room was small and there were only 2 windows, one was blocked by a painting, the other had its curtains drawn. Pushing the door open he gave her a nudge inside, standing in the doorway unwilling to move. There must have been 50 or even 100 paintings, all different size, some finished others not, Of his family, himself, the games, Rue, Thresh, The mutts, Coin, Katniss, anything and everything. Then there where the pages, they lay scattered on a table, black and white sketches that he afraid to look at, they where the things he drew after waking from nightmares, or after flashbacks, the more gruesome things he had seen.

Katniss gave a small squeeze of his hand before walking in the room, she had seen his pictures before, but this was something else. Her fingers brushed against a picture of Cato attacked by the mutts, another of them on the beach about to dive into the water, another of a jungle. In the far corner stood a picture of his father, it was half hidden by a blanket and she had the sudden urge to rip it off so she could admire it. But she didn't, she stood there in the middle of the room, understanding his words, understanding his pain. Katniss turned to face him her eyes wet from tears, she felt guilty now. Looking at the pictures of his family, if it wasn't for her they would still be alive. Without hesitation she walked over to him wrapping her small arms around his larger frame, feeling guilty she couldn't even remember his brother's names.

For just a moment, a second Peeta hesitated. Why he didn't know, well he did, it was fear, and a mixture of feelings that left him more confused. But then his arms came up and he wrapped them around her hugging her to him finding the hug comforting. There were no cameras, no one to see them, no one to judge them. His head rested against hers and he closed his eyes wanting to remember the moment in case she pulled away, in case he woke up and it was a dream. How many times had he dreamed of this? Her in his arms without any force or pleading.

"We both have lost a lot" he whispered afraid to break the moment. He now understood why Haymitch turned to drinking, why others went crazy. The games, the war, it would always haunt him, even if he was 80 he would still be afraid that at any moment they would drag him away. He would never admit that, that he was more scared than he let on. He wanted to be strong, for Katniss, for others.

"How about we go downstairs" he offered after some minutes wanting to leave the room of paintings behind. Very reluctantly he pulled back opening his eyes, the pain in his chest had not gone away, he doubted it ever would. But she had managed to ease it, even for just some minutes. Lifting a hand up, he brushed her cheek wiping away a tear. "Don't cry" he reassured her hating to see her upset. Dropping his arms room around her he took her hand carefree and closed the door pulling her back down the hall wanting to forget everything that had happened, except the hug. No he would remember that, it would haunt him in his dreams tonight. And he had a feeling that maybe tonight he would sleep better. "are you hungry?" he asked turning to look at her, both concerned that she had no eaten breakfast in her hurry to go hunt, and also to break the silence.


	4. Chapter 4

A knock woke Peeta from his sleep on the sofa, jumping up he rubbed the back of his neck pausing for a moment. It must have just after 10 in the morning, on a Sunday. Who would possibly want him? With a grunt he pushed himself up, flattened his now creased clothes and walked to the door opening it, surprised to see Katniss there. His brow creased before his face relaxed a little. "Is something wrong" he asked leaning against the doorframe his eyes studying her. She simply shook her head, placed a hand on his arm and pulled him from the door. "Come on, I want to show you something" Peeta didn't hesitate; instead he closed the door and walked behind her curious to her sudden willingness to talk. "Where are we going?" Peeta asked as they made their way through town then down toe borders, where they went through the fence to the other side. He had hoped she wasn't trying to show him how to hunt; he had neither the skills nor the enthusiasm for it. Instead she gave him a smile dragging him along an almost invisible path. He didn't know how long it had been but it was getting hotter in the woods, is legs began to ache under him, his stomach growled with hunger, and he was getting bored. But just as he was about suggest a small rest Katniss stopped causing him to run into the back of her.

"Sorry" he muttered placing his hands on her shoulders, there in front of him was a small lake. Its water sparkled in the sun light and the air was alive with the sound of bugs and something else.

"My father used to take me here" her voice was quiet yet Peeta could hear the sadness.

"Thank you" he whispered turning his head to look down at her. He caught it again giving it a light squeeze; this was her sanctuary like painting was his. This time he was the one pulling her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her gently compared to before when it seemed like the closer the hug the less the pain was.

"You're not alone you know that don't you?" Peeta pulled away to look down at her, he knew there were things that she wouldn't want to talk about, he knew there were things that no one not even him would understand. But there where something's he did, like the constant fear that they might wake up back in the arena, or that Peacekeepers could drag the away. The nightmares about friends and families death. He knew about that, sure most nightmares where about losing Katniss, but it wasn't just her walking away. It was her being eaten by mutts, Gale taking her away, her dying my coin's hand. Then there where the nightmares of being tortured, the damp small space, and the heat of the liquid they would inject him with. The television in the corner that would replay the games. He hasn't been able to look at a TV since without having some sort of flash back. There were days when he felt normal, calm, even himself again. The some days he could feel the anger, the pain, the flashes of memory that occurred every hour or so and left him shaking. "I'm here for you; I always was and always will be"

"I know" Katniss responded before pulling out of his arms and walking to the small building. Instead he followed her trying to keep pace but finding it hard, all the walking had taken some strain on his leg. He doubted he would ever get used to having a fake one. The inside was bare, cold and plain, it made Peeta crease his brow before something sprung to his mind. Bitting his lip to keep the smile on his lips, he knew that whatever he painted would be haunting, like a bad ghost. That no matter how many times he baked Katniss bread she would still be... herself, strong, scared and sometimes cold. This place was her only good memory left, and suddenly Peeta's hand itched to run home, grab his paints and paint. Not on a canvas, or paper, no he wanted to paint these walls, bring them alive. "It's quiet" he noted turning to look around him but never dropping her hand.

He enjoyed it, the warmth of her hand in his, afters some seconds he studied the jacket on the floor. "Are you sure it's safe?" he asked noting the jacket before dropping her hand to walk over and pick it up. It was covered in a fine layer of a mixture of dust and dirt that must have blown in. He shook it once holding the white jacket out, it was dirty, the white not so pure anymore as it might have been. Before he could help it, something inside him stirred. The flash of a white jacket, concrete walls, and the smell of something damp, the jacket dropped from his hands his heart beating so fast in his chest it drowned out everything for several seconds. Most of the time it had been Doctors who came to inject him with things, place him in front of a TV, make him stare at it for hours, tell him Katniss was evil. But at first, when he resisted they would bring in reinforcements to keep him from attacking the Doctors. He often would awake several hours later bruised and bloody. The ribs ached, arms made of jelly lead. His good leg almost gave way before he backed up against the wall. Without thinking he turned and ran from the small house. His legs taking him as fast as he could back along the lake and to the woods, his vision began to blur, the sun felt hotter and for a moment he thought he would pass out. The memories where to real, running through the woods with an injured leg, walking back to go and fight Cato, moving with the pack pretending to be part of them. Killing that girl, putting her out of her misery, Tears stung his eyes and before he knew it he had stumbled into the forest disoriented, memory and reality blurred to the point Peeta felt he was back in the small room, the Peacekeepers looming over him.

They had convinced him Katniss had tried to kill him, edited the Games footage to make it look like she had tried to kill him with an arrow when she had actually killed the boy responsible for Rue's death. It took weeks for people to convince him it wasn't true. His hand gripped a tree as his vision swung from side to side like a swing in the wind and after some seconds he fell to the ground it shifted between leaves and undergrowth to the cold hard ground of his cell.

"LEAVE ME ALONE" he screamed into the air, birds fluttered away with fright. His hands came around his head in defence from an invisible attack, his back against the tree. His eyes burned like he had been looking underwater for too long, there was a metallic taste in his mouth only meaning he had bit his tongue, and there was a buzzing. It came and went but was always there, like static on a TV; only it filled his ears until it drowned everything out.

Peeta was barely holding on, his mind unstable, he often said he was fine, ok. But he wasn't, he told himself that the nightmares would disappear, that tomorrow was a better day. But every time he began standing up and dealing with it he was pushed back down. Whether it is through flashbacks, or dreams, Katniss pushing him away. The death of his family, watching as District 12 rebuilt everything; people still asked him what it was like, the war, the games. Here where times when he was tempted to follow Haymitch and start drinking, make it go away. But he couldn't bring himself to do that. People thought he was soft, weak because he couldn't fight, and he knew if it came down to it he would fail at fighting. But he always had a strong spirit, stood by watching as people killed each other, watching as Katniss turned him down. But the torture, it pushed him over the edge, and under Coin's hand he crumbled.

Peeta sat here his knees against his chest, his arms still around him in defence, his cheeks painted wet from tears. How was anyone went to survive this? He wondered that every time this happened, and it happened a lot, given not all where this bad. But sometimes he would wake up hours later, shaking and cold, his mind numb. It wasn't always Katniss' fault they avoided each other, sometimes Peeta chose to lock himself away at home or in the bakery, afraid that anything could set him off, make him kill someone, or harm himself. He looked strong spirited because he wanted people to believe it, but there in the forest, hiding under the tree, he was at his weakest, broken and alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Katniss did not see Peeta for some days after the incident in the woods

After he ran from the hut by the lake she had tried to find him, following his shouts, but as she came to a spot by the trees where his jacket lay torn to shred, and the leaves where disturbed, she had not been able to find him in the forest. Which was weird for her, being a hunter, a fighter she thought it would have been easy to follow the trail of tracks and boots hitting the under growth. But the sun had set and she reluctantly made her way back to fence where she paused for several minutes hoping he would jump from behind a tree and yell 'I'm right here' but he didn't, so she walked home feeling sad, yet glad she did not have to face him. What would it have been like? Just hearing him shout, his face as he looked at the white peace keepers jacket, it made her heart tighten in her chest.

Peeta had always been pure, innocent somehow. But seeing him like that, seeing him broken, it shook her down to her bones, Could one person really do that to another? Killing someone she understood, though she didn't condone it. Holding someone prisoner for crimes, well she understood that. But torturing someone to the point where they didn't know what was real and what was not. Making someone hate the person they love.

A lump formed in her throat, she brought a hand up to wipe her cheek to find a tear, and her hand shaking. Hadn't she promised to stop doing this to herself? Stop thinking of such sad things, Yet Katniss could not help it. Everything seemed to haunt her like a bad ghost, something from fairy tale, an evil monster. By the time she inside her own home her legs where shaking, tears where painted across her cheeks and there was a weird sound, something between a sob and a hiccup was coming from her lips.

That night she didn't dream of Prim, Her mother, Coin or any of those that had lost their lives. That night she re lived the short period she was infected with tracker jackers venom, the way the world seemed to shape and bubble around her. Only this time she was strapped on a pale blue table, lights shining around her as she watched someone inject something in her arm. The face was masked by a cloth, the eyes barely visible, but she could tell it was male. Then he stepped from the shadow and pulled the mask down, in her dream she tried to scream but something was blocking her mouth, a cloth. That's when she felt the restraints, tying her to the table as she watched the flickering screen above her; the TV was blank for some seconds before an image came on.

Katniss sat up in her bed before she could register what was on the screen, her throat hurt from screaming and when she looked at the clock above the door it read early in the morning. Sweat stuck to her forehead and neck. For hours she laid there her eyes staring at the white wall next to her not willing to look at the ceiling in case she saw the flickering static of a television. Still Peeta's face haunted her, the way he looked over her like coin had done. Like he was trying to get revenge for what had happened to him. She had always blamed herself for what had happened to the others, to her family and District 12, even 13 sometimes. But never had she considered what her affect had on Peeta, at least not in full detail.

His family, his brothers, his parents had died because of her; they had died in the bombs along with everyone else. It was one thing to know you where responsible for people's death, but to be responsible for a friend's family death? That was something else, and then there was the hijacking, the fact that Peeta had to live in fear of snapping at any moment, that he had to live across the street from the person that could make him snap, and loved. Did he still love her? The thought made her heart thump in her chest, both out of fear and something else.

_What had Katniss done, really done to the boy with bread?_


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I wanted to say thank you to everyone that reviewed/added the story to alert. I know I haven't been updating in a while, but I have holidays so I should be able to do a couple a week. The last chapter was Katniss based so this one will focus on Peeta and what happened after the flash back. Hope you enjoy!**

When everything turned back to dull shades of greens and browns Peeta rose from the spot next to the tree and staggered through the woods. He could taste blood in his mouth and no matter how hard he shook his head or covered his ears the ringing would not stop. Eventually he made it out and back into district 12, though it was not the meadow he came out at, it was at the back of some houses, there where various gaps in the fence from where it was cut after the revolution ended. Tall yellow grass rose from the ground until it reached his waist, it was obvious this was not the rich part of town. As quietly as he could he snuck through one of the gaps I the fence and into a backyard of one of the homes, it was covered in black, various brown patches stood out, but mostly it still looked like someone had set fire to it. Windows were broken, curtain burned, and he could only guess what the inside looked like. His feet sunk into the mud and he made his way around the house to the front, no one looked at him, or questioned him. Most people where to busy with hurrying home or trying to close shops, buying some last bids of food before the evening descended on them.

Slowly Peeta made his way home, by the time he reached his front door the sky had turned a shade of orange streaked with ink. He would have found it beautiful if it wasn't for the fact that he felt tired enough to sleep for a week, If his body wasn't aching and his teeth hitting each other, if his eyes weren't burning and his hands shaking. Peeta stood in front of the door for several minutes, his hand holding the cool metal of the handle before he finally turned it opening the door. It was warmer inside, not by much, but it made him stop shivering and he was glad to live in the victor's village where the homes where sturdier, better built. He quickly went to work removing his shoes and locking doors, walking to his bedroom where he stripped and changed into a clean shirt and pyjama bottoms.

Four hours he lay in bed not willing to sleep, because he knew that as soon as he did, he would be haunted by nightmares, haunted by his torture or Katniss or himself. It made him sick just thinking about it all, and several times he had to get up from the comfort of his bed to go to the bathroom, though he was only sick a couple times. He contemplated taking the pills he was given to by his doctor, but the last time he took them he woke up almost a day later with a stale taste in his mouth and a pounding head ache. But he did not dream in that day, in fact he felt better. But he didn't want to risk sleeping for so long. So he stayed awake until the morning broke through the clouds and made its way through the open window. Still he did not move, or get up, all he wanted to do was lie there and hope that one day he would be ok, that everything would go back to normal. That maybe one day Katniss could love him like he used to love her, and that his family's death would be in the past. That maybe he did not have to worry about killing someone in a fit of rage. But he knew that nothing would be normal again, he would be broken for a long time, and it hurt to admit it. It hurt to admit that he needed help and he needed someone to tell him it would be ok. Was he not the one that comforted people, the kind and gentle one? Yet there he lay, huddled in his bed afraid to get up, afraid to move. Because one person, one person who was dead, had broken his spirit and body and Peeta did not know how to survive that, to stand up and smile be happy.


End file.
